From the Wreckage
by lizwuzthere
Summary: Mid-War Cybertron: After his transport ship crashes, Knockout finds himself in the company of three of those infamous warriors: the Wreckers. No lone Decepticon could hope to escape that situation alive, so Knockout will just have to be something else. Like an Autobot.


**This fic is sort of a prequel to the next one I'm doing in my Opportunity Knocks series. It basically contains all of the background information about Wheeljack and Knockout that will be mentioned in that story.**

**OH and Trauma, the OC in this chapter, is the character of Blueskyscribe. You should read her story with him: Life in Glass Houses.**

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"These sort of injuries aren't complicated, you should have everything you need there. Just don't make the first repair until you have the welder within reach.."

"_Sure, Doc um... Okay yeah, I got it._"

"Make sure it isn't the soldering iron. I don't want to have to scrape out bonding metal when I get back."

"_No no, it's not- oh wait a klik... Yeah. Yeah okay _now _I got it!_"

"_Wow, um... when is the REAL doctor going to be back? I think I'd rather wait for him, honestly._"

"_Don't worry_._ Knockout showed me how t'do this tons of times._"

Knockout's smile widened as he heard the small voice of their patient picked up by Breakdown's comm. "Tell your patient there to metal up!" He said, intentionally louder than before so they would hear him. "He's a Decepticon, isn't he? And Decepticons aren't afraid of losing something trivial like a leg every now and again."

"_Wa-wait am I going to _lose it_? It's not that bad really, I can wait!_"

Breakdown's laughter accompanied the terrified patient's vocals until finally he spoke up again. His voice took on that deep and commanding tone it did when he was trying to act tough. Knockout thought that he sort of liked that tone. "_Don't be stupid! You're a Vehicon; legs practically crystalize in the mines for you lot._"

"_I THINK I'M RATHER ATTACHED TO _THIS_ ONE!_"

"Knockout."

At hearing his name called, the red medic turned around, still wearing that amused grin. Sitting on the opposite end of the tiny passenger bay, a lavender jet was tapping his digits expectantly on their makeshift table. He had a '_stop teasing patients and come back here and play this slagging game that YOU wanted to play in the first place_'look about him, so Knockout offered him a short wave and went back to his conversation.

"You'll have to let me go, Breakdown. Trauma's about to pitch a fit because he's not getting enough attention." Knockout couldn't be bothered to listen to whatever protests Trauma was offering in the background and instead focused on Breakdown..

"_Alright alright. I'll see you soon though, yeah?_"

"We shouldn't be more than another sub-cycle." Knockout glanced out one of the small, rectangular windows of the transport ship. Outside he could just make out the dark grey and orange streaked ground far below. "We _are _flying over the Badlands though, so there's a chance we'll get lost and be another two or three."

"_Why would you get lost?_"

"Communication tends to short out in this area. It might not affect us up in the air, but still. Don't fry a circuit if you comm again and I don't pick up the first time."

"_I'll try to restrain myself._"

With a quiet hum of approval, Knockout finally disconnected and swiveled back around towards Trauma. "Now then, where were we?" he mused, sauntering over and sitting across from the other medic.

Trauma said nothing for a moment, but continued tapping his digits on the box they were using as a table, eyeing his comrade irritably.

The two of them had been called away to assist a Decepticon base not too far from their own which happened to be short on medics and close to a recent battle. Apparently, there were Autobots out there who, when facing off against a force three times the size of their own, decided they were _too good_ for running away. Knockout knew the type; even though he'd tried to pound it out of him, Breakdown was like that sometimes...

Well, unfortunately, it seemed these particular Autobots _were _too good for running away, because in the end it was the Decepticons who had turned tailpipe and fled. There'd been quite a mess to clean up... Breakdown had wanted to come help, (and probably check out the destruction) but he wouldn't have fit in the transport with them. And it was stupid to try and drive across the Badlands. They _were _called the Badlands, after all.

So since it was only the two medics on this tedious journey back, Trauma obviously wasn't thrilled at being left hanging. Finally he spoke up, "Before you so rudely shut me out to go talk to your _assistant_, it was your turn." Knockout noticed the emphasis on the word, but chose to ignore it.

"I hardly think interrupting a card game to give crucial medical advice ought to be considered rude." Knockout picked up one of the tiles on the table, adding it to his stack.

"Oh sure, sounded _real_ crucial." Trauma raised an optic ridge as he looked down at the tiles in his servo and began shuffling through them. He was holding the tiles in a stack so Knockout couldn't see how many he had left. "You don't actually think he was calling for help with a patch job? He just misses you." His speech took on an air of mocking and he looked up again. "Isn't that cute, KO? Your big, blue brute wanted to hear the sound of your vocalizer."

Knockout's optics narrowed. There were a few things he wanted to say to that, but seeing as how he had to spend the next sub-cycle shut in with this mech (unless he wanted to go sit with the genericons flying the ship, which would be slightly less enjoyable than driving his drill through his optical socket) he didn't make any of the comments that crossed his processor. Instead he just growled. "Take your turn already."

Trauma didn't seem to have the same thought process and decided to keep at the subject. "Aww you're not mad, are you?" The jet shrugged his shoulder plating, though his wings gave a short flutter behind him, betraying his amusement. "Come on, now. After _that _display you can't expect me not to tease you."

"Display?" Knockout hadn't meant to engage Trauma on the subject, but he was visibly offended by this last comment. "I'd hardly call a private conversation a display. A _medical_ conversation, might I add?"

"Oh. So that big, goofy grin you had on the whole time was because you get _so _excited about welding." Trauma placed a tile down on the table, smirking up at Knockout. "Your move."

Knockout's optics dropped down to his tiles. _Had_ he been smiling? He couldn't remember.

"Not like it's any of your business," he began, keeping his optics down, "but there's nothing between me and Breakdown." He picked up another tile.

"What? _Nothing_, you say?" Trauma sneered, leaning back in his seat. "I don't believe that for a nano-klik! The way you two carry on- I'd have thought you'd be sending out invitations to your bonding ceremony already." He leaned forward again, placing another tile. "Send me one, by the way. When you do_._ Which you _will_."

"If you must know," Knockout's digits gave an annoyed twinge as he continued. "Breakdown and I have an... arrangement of sorts."

"That's what you call it? Not very romantic."

"Yes. That _is _what I call it." Knockout placed a tile. "And it's _not_ romantic. It's not any deeper than your attachment to... Oh, I don't know... This table we're using."

"Wow!" Trauma's optics widened slightly. "You'd compare Breakdown to a _box_ we're using for a table?"

"That's right." Knockout reached forward, tapping the crate with his pointed digit. "You found the thing and thought it would be a good table, so you fixed it up to be one. It does its job, and once you don't need it anymore, you can just put it back and it'll be a box again. No need to get attached to the thing being a _table_."

Trauma winced and looked down at his tiles again. "Huh... seems a bit harsh." He moved to place a tile down. "But I guess if you're both satisfied with just that." He paused, his servo still grasping the tile, and he looked up and met Knockout's gaze. "...Breakdown _does_ know you two aren't serious, right?"

Knockout just sort of mumbled in reply, giving a short glance out one of the windows again. "Well, yes... he must... I'm sure he does."

"Oh _Primus_, Knockout," Trauma rubbed his servo against his helm. "If you really haven't had that conversation with him... You think he's just gonna know not to get attached? ...I mean, it's _Breakdown_. If anyone would-"

"What makes you think you know what Breakdown feels!?" Knockout snapped, slamming a tile down on the table. "I've known him for _vorns _longer than you have!"

Trauma strummed his pointed digits on his helm, still resting in his servo. "Yes that's true... But, just because you know him better doesn't mean I don't know him at all. We've all been stationed together for a while now... long enough to consider him a friend, at least."

"Oh please, don't be stupid," Knockout groaned, clearly growing tired of this conversation. "We're _Decepticons_. And Decepticons don't have friends."

"WHAT?!" Trauma pitched forward, erupting into laughter. "HA HA HA! Where did you hear that- some old Senate propaganda?!"

Knockout said nothing in reply, only watching Trauma as he tried and failed a number of times to come out of a terrible fit of giggles. Finally, he calmed down and, after clearing his vents quietly, spoke again.

"Uh yeah... I don't think not having friends is a Decepticon thing." Trauma shrugged his shoulder plating and tilted his helm forward a bit. "I think it's more of a _cynical aft _sort of thing."

"Having friends is a liability, Trauma." Knockout folded his arms across his chassis, glaring coldly at the other medic. "How many times have you seen someone get scrapped by going back _for a friend_? That sort of attachment- it's the kind of idiotic thing an Autobot would do." He vented heavily and turned to look out the window again. "Attachment gets you killed. That's why I don't have friends."

When he turned to look back at Trauma, he was a little surprised to see the lavender jet had an awfully smug smile on his face. "Mmhmm. So that's the reason, huh? ...If you say so," he mumbled, letting his optics trail up and down the red mech.

Knockout narrowed his optics. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing."

"No no no, don't think I don't know what that condescending look is about. You're trying to _analyze _me, aren't you?" Knockout shouted, "Well cut it out! What, do you think you're some kind of psychologist now?"

"I would be a _psychiatrist_, actually." Trauma's grin became even more smug, if that was possible. "I have medical training, after all... but since you asked; what I think you're-"

"No." Knockout interrupted immediately, holding up a digit to stop him. "No, I did _not_ ask."

"What _I_ think," Trauma continued, speaking louder over Knockout despite his protests, "is you just use this _'Cons have no friends_ thing as an excuse. You don't really feel that way."

"I said NO. I'm not interested in your stupid theories!" Knockout interrupted again.

Trauma spoke even louder, practically shouting now. "You just don't want to admit you have those feelings for Breakdown because you're afraid! You're afraid of losing him so you _pretend_ like losing him would mean nothing at all to you!"

"_SHUT UP!_"

It was quiet for half a klik and then Knockout's comm line pinged. His digit flew to his audial to accept the call; turning his helm away from Trauma, he screamed, "WHAT?!"

"_Whoa. Hey, sorry Doc. Didn't mean to catch you at a bad time..._"

Breakdown.

Knockout glanced back at Trauma. The mech met his gaze only for a second, then he reached forward, placing down what was his last tile on the table. _Ugh_. That patronizing smirk was driving Knockout crazy. He thought for a moment to reach over and just slap it off his stupid grey face... but instead he stood and strode across the bay to get away from the other medic.

"It's fine. Trauma's just... It's fine," he grumbled into his comm. "What is it, Breakdown?"

"_No, it's uh... well, I think I just misplaced some gears in this guy here, and he's-_"

Now that he was listening more carefully, Knockout could hear the same patient from before absolutely shrieking in the background. "Why is he yelling? Did you not give him any circuit dampeners?"

"_Heh. Nope._" Breakdown continued in a whisper, "_That was on purpose, though. Shoulda heard the scrap he was talkin' about you fer not bein' here. Figured it might help him learn a bit about showin' respect._"

Knockout's smile returned. "Oh really? Well, when I get back I can certainly-"

Suddenly cutting himself off, Knockout lifted his servo up to his face. Oh, he... really _was_ smiling.

Oh no.

"Uh... Listen, Breakdown," Knockout's tone changed suddenly, becoming much darker. "I think when I get back we should have a, uh... a _talk._"

"_Oh. Uh... yeah, sure Doc. What did you wanna talk about?_"

Knockout hesitated, tapping his digits fervently on one of the seats nearby. "I just wanted to... clear up some things," he said quietly, giving a brief glance back towards Trauma. "I thought we-"

He never got to finish. Just then, the ship jolted sharply to the side, sending Knockout crashing to the floor, his helm striking the metal with a powerful clang! Alarms began buzzing and flashing red in the bay. Knockout could hear Breakdown's voice calling him on his comm, but he was too dazed to respond. There was a sensation of falling, and falling _fast._ Breakdown's voice faded into static. There was a loud, terrible crunch. The scream of shredding metal...

And then nothing.


End file.
